


Christmas Presents

by Rainbowcat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowcat/pseuds/Rainbowcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam, and Cas are in for a little holiday surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Presents

**Author's Note:**

> A belated holiday present for my dear GISHWHES teammate and friend, Tisha. Happy 2013!

The Winchesters usually spent Christmases like this: hunkered down in a dingy little motel, cold, exhausted, and decidedly cheerless. This Christmas Eve was hardly an exception. Sam pored over websites he pulled up on his laptop, scanning for local demon attacks, and Dean stared out the window moodily, sipping a lukewarm beer and reaching occasionally into a packet of Oreos. Castiel, for once, had decided to join them, although it hadn't improved Dean's spirits any: the angel had just spent the last two hours mumbling darkly about how Christmas had become too unrepresentative of Jesus Christ, and that the son of God hadn't even been born in December, for the love of all things holy. At the very least, Cas had brought along a tiny Christmas tree (though not without complaint about the commercialization of the holiday), and they had hung an array of cheap, tacky ornaments and lights on it. The thing now stood forlornly in a corner, being soundly ignored by the room's inhabitants.

Having just staved off the potential 12/21 mini-apocalypse (who knew that Mayan demigods could be such a pain in the ass?), the Winchesters felt drained, definitely lacking holiday charm. The minutes ticked closer to midnight and Dean was just eyeing his bed when Sam cleared his throat, indicating he had found something.

"Guys, get this."

Reluctantly, Dean hauled himself up from his seat and joined Cas over Sam's shoulder. He read the headline of the article in question out loud and snorted derisively. "Local Children Eagerly Await the Arrival of Santa Claus. ... So?"

"Dean," Sam said impatiently, while Cas read on with a tilted head, "there's something odd about this town. Every year, there are kids who get these super-nice gifts - beyond anything their parents could afford, of course - and kids who get stockings full of coal. All of this is really inexplicable. No one sees the gifts appear, they just... do."

Dean stared. "So wait, am I supposed to take this shit seriously? I mean, it's not even like anyone is dying. Do we really care?"

Sam shrugged defensively. "Might be worth checking out."

Castiel chose that moment to add, "It does raise my curiosity. I assure you that Heaven knows nothing of this."

Dean glowered at the angel, betrayed that he had sided with the younger Winchester, but just as he opened his mouth to make a snappy retort, a loud crash on the ceiling made all three of them jump.

"Move," Dean hissed, and they sprung into action. Sam dove into his bag and pulled out several knives and guns, which he tossed to Castiel and his brother, and the three of them ducked around the corner of the bathroom. There they lingered, breathing as quietly as possible. Sam held up his knife, Dean a gun, as the angel stood mere inches behind them with his fists clenched. Ordinarily, Dean would have muttered something to Cas regarding the lack of personal space, but the crashing noises had started once more and he chose instead to listen intently. 

There was the sound of something falling, followed closely by the earsplitting din of a metal grate hitting the floor. "Chimney," Sam growled, speaking the obvious. Their view of the crappy little fireplace was obstructed by the bathroom door, but they lurched forward, ready to take on whatever intruder had come to call.

Suddenly, Castiel gestured at the wall closest to them, blue eyes widening in alarm. Reflected there was the shadow of a figure slowly straightening up, and Dean's mind instantly jumped to the worst possible conclusions: Angels looking to pick fights with their Cas? Some odd form of evil, outsmarting the salt-coated windowsills and coming down the chimney instead? Crowley himself? Yet the thing finally stood up, and Dean's breath hitched in his throat.

It looked like...

Well, it looked like Santa.

That was definitely Santa.

Or was it...? What odd witchcraft could have brought this into their cheap motel room? More pagan gods looking for human sacrifices - and where, then, was a solid Christmas tree branch when you needed it?

Dean turned his head to stare at Sam and Cas, who stared back with equal amazement and confusion. Sam raised his knife a few inches but hesitated to do any more. Tension was rising, but the tension, Dean realized, came from the feeling that they were preparing for what seemed to be no danger. The trio watched, poised to move at any second, but the shadow on the wall - Santa? - ambled slowly in the other direction, toward the corner of the Christmas tree.

They kept still, and the silhouette of Santa removed the sack hanging from his shoulders, reached inside of it, and pulled out several parcels. He leaned over and set them carefully on the ground and then moved back, standing motionless for a second before returning back toward them.

Dean frowned in concentration. This is where the thing might attack them, he knew, and it would be best to strike now, to stay on the offensive. He gestured to the others to follow his lead, but Castiel grabbed his arm. A silent battle ensued, Dean shaking his head furiously and waving his pistol in the intruder's direction, Castiel tugging him back, and Sam making a futile attempt to break them apart. By the time Dean had wrenched himself free and stormed into the room, it was empty once more. A single candle flickered serenely by the window, and Dean noticed that the packet of Oreos was missing from its rightful spot on the table.

"What just happened?" Dean growled, checking all the corners and curtains. He verified that the salt line on the windowsill remained intact, and that no other possessions but the cookies had gone missing. Sam followed in his wake, gaze flicking up to the ceiling and over to the fireplace. The grate had been restored to its original condition, and Sam removed it carefully to peer up the chimney. Nothing.

"Cas? What's that?"

Dean darted over to the angel, who was kneeling before their little tree and was holding three neatly-wrapped parcels. His eyes, when he turned them to the Winchesters, were filled for once with awe and gratitude.

"I believe Mr. Claus has paid us a visit."

"Mr. - Cas, you're being ridiculous. Gimme those." Dean grabbed the presents from Castiel and set them on the ground, where he kept his gun pointed at them and poked carefully. The three packages were wrapped identically, each bearing a sticker with three names: _Dean. Sam. Castiel._

"Sam, can you..." Dean gesticulated again with the tip of the gun, watching carefully as Sam cut off the three wrappers, and his breath caught once more when their respective contents came to light.

 _Dean._ A set of matchbox cars, including one that was a perfect replica of the Impala, even with miniature versions of the leather seats inside.

 _Sam._ A small stuffed dog, a little worn and frayed around its ears, as though it had spent many nights by the pillow of a sleeping child.

 _Castiel._ A photo in a dark and shining frame: the two Winchesters, much younger than when they had first met Cas, leaning against their car with identical expressions of carefree laughter.

"Are these...?" Dean trailed off once more, suddenly unable to swallow around the lump in his throat, and he finally lowered the gun. Giving the model Impala a push, he tracked it rolling smoothly across the table with his gaze. No, these weren't dangerous. Not in the slightest.

Castiel reached for the photo and Dean let him; the angel pressed the frame tight against his chest and lowered his eyes. Neither Dean nor Sam spoke.

Finally, after what seemed like minutes of almost sacred silence, Sam cleared his throat.

"Hey... Merry Christmas."


End file.
